


Butter

by Bishie Huntress (Artemystic)



Series: Pieces of Ed [5]
Category: Fullmetal Alchemist
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Friendship, Gen, Humor, Post Fullmetal Alchemist: Conqueror of Shamballa
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-06-26
Updated: 2014-06-26
Packaged: 2018-02-06 07:12:26
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 781
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1849099
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Artemystic/pseuds/Bishie%20Huntress
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Ed, Roy, and Butter. Roy wants Ed to do what?!</p>
            </blockquote>





	Butter

Ed looked over at Roy disbelievingly. “You want me to do _what_ with butter?” he asked the glowing man incredulously.

“Look,” said Roy, “I don’t see why this is such a big deal. You just – “

“I don’t wanna ‘just’!” Ed exclaimed.

“Shush!” Roy hissed, looking at the thin walls of their apartment with apprehension. “You remember what happened last time your neighbors caught you talking to yourself.”

“I wasn’t talking to myself!” Ed said, lowering his voice marginally. “I was talking to _you_!”

“Well, yes, but you could just be crazy, and I could be a very sentient figment of your imagination.”

“My imagination would say that,” Ed mused.

“I am not a figment of your imagination!” Roy exclaimed indignantly.

“My imagination would say that, too.”

Roy growled.

“Hey!” Ed said suddenly. “How come you get to talk as loud as you like?”

“Well, no one can hear me, can they?”

“Yeah, but… If you _are_ a figment of my imagination, then I could be saying all your lines out loud.”

Roy resisted the urge to roll his eyes. “Has anyone ever heard my side of the conversation?”

“No…. But I’m smarter than that. I’m sure, in public, my super brain would make the conversation appear to be silent on one end.”

“You do realize that, either way, you still look crazy.”

Ed opened his mouth to retort, and promptly shut it again. “Well, damn,” he said after a minute. He looked down at the table. “I’m still not doing that with the butter.”

Roy sighed in exasperation. “Really, Fullmetal – “

“Ed,” Ed interrupted.

“Really, Ed, it’s not as bad as you’re making it out to be. Just rub some on, and – “

“Hell. _No!_ Can’t you hear, old man? No butter!”

“Why not?” Roy asked, with a remarkable amount of patience. “Give me one good reason.”

“It’s slimy,” Ed said without hesitation.

“Slimy,” Roy repeated. “It’s slimy? Really?”

Ed nodded.

“That’s what you’re going with?”

“Yup.”

 “You do know it washes off, right?”

“Don’t care,” Ed said stubbornly. “No butter.”

“Then how are you going to – “

“I’ll just cut it off,” Ed said simply.

“You can’t cut it off, Ed!”

“Can, too! It’s mine, isn’t it?”

“Well…”

“ _Isn’t it?_ ”

“Yes, but – “

“Then I can do what I want!”

“Maybe you should think this over, Edward.”

“What’s to think over? It’ll be quick and painless.”

“Nothing is quick and painless with you,” Roy muttered.

“What was that?”

“Nothing,” Roy said innocently.

“You better not be talking about my height! I’ve been growing!”

“Ed, when’s the last time I said something about your height?”

“Yet another clue that you must be a part of my subconscious,” Ed said thoughtfully.

Roy leaned forward. “It’s not hard,” he said. “You just take the butter” – He grabbed up the stick of butter in his ghost-y hands – “and smear it on!” And he smashed the soft, _room temperature_ butter down on Ed’s hand, making sure to really rub it in.

“Hey!” Ed snatched his hand away. “What the hell? Are you some kind of sasquatch? Effing barbarian!” He tried to scrape away the butter, then looked at his other hand in distaste. “Great. Now it’s all over my automail. Way to think things through, moron!”

“Your automail could use oiling,” Roy said haughtily. “It squeaks while you sleep.”

“It does not!”

“Like a tiny, little mouse.”

“Gah! Who’s so small that even a mouse couldn’t nibble on him?” Ed raged, trying to fling butter at Roy. Unfortunately, it flew right through him and landed on the wall opposite Ed.

“You did,” Roy said calmly.

“You!” Ed pointed. “You are awful! You are a horrible – “

“Horrible?”

“Old – “

“Old!”

“Nasty, nasty man!” Ed finished. “You are a cancer, a plague!”

“How am I possibly a plague?” Roy asked reasonably. And, “Old?!”

“You plague me!” Ed shouted. There was some banging on the wall with the butter, and it slid down a ways.

“Can you get it off?”

The non sequitur caught Ed off guard. “Huh?” he asked, a bit stupidly.

“The ring,” Roy said, nodding to Ed’s hand. “Can you get it off?”

“Oh, uh…” Ed wiggled Hohenheim’s ring on his left hand a bit, and it slid right off. “Yeah.”

Roy sat back, a self-satisfied smirk on his face.

“Oh, don’t go looking all smug!” Ed said, annoyed. “It’s still slimy.”

“And it’ll wash right off,” Roy replied.

Ed wandered off, muttering, “Stupid, slimy… ‘It’ll wash right off!’ I’d like to wash the smirk off that smarmy git’s face…”

Roy just laughed.

“I heard that! Bastard!” Someone banged on the wall again, and the butter landed on the floor with a _splat_.

“And I am not cleaning that up!”


End file.
